Mrs Spooky Diaries
by Trixfan
Summary: NEW FORMAT/RATING. Post Mrs Spooky Mulder.  Scully finally tells Mulder they've been married 10 years. They read Scully's diary together, making decisions about their combined future.
1. Prologue  setting the sceen

You guys all know the drill, CC, 13 productions and Fox own the characters, the rest, well that's mine.

This story is a follow on from Mrs Spooky Mulder. You don't need to have read that one first but it's a good idea. This is written in the first person, the reason will become apparent soon.

**Final note**, I've played with the order of the episodes in the first season because the time span between The Pilot and Squeeze, is over 15 months and this is a very important time in which the cases Mulder and Scully investigate lead to her decisions to withhold the truth from Mulder due to their developing partner/relationship. Besides, by squeeze, Mulder has a key to Scully apartment and calls her at all times of the night.

I guess what I'm saying is, expect the unexpected!

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><p>I met him for the first time today. Really met him. I've seen him before, I've read about him, even been curious enough to seek information, but today was different.<p>

I'm starting this all wrong. I'm going about telling this tale from the end and not the beginning. It needs to be logical, rational. My thoughts need to be ordered so that if I ever want or need to show him how this happened, he'll be able to follow it.

[Rest of the page left blank]


	2. 7th March 1992

Dear Diary,

Today is 7th March 1992.

I am known as Dr Dana Katherine Scully, although that is only one version of my name. You may ask why? The answer is simple and yet so complicated. It's the reason for starting this diary.

One day, I might be forced to give it to the person it's intended for, although not yet. I'm not sure that the time will ever present itself, but this will be my insurance if it ever becomes necessary. You don't understand yet, but you will, I promise. You just have to stay with me. This story is somewhat convoluted. As such I have to explain the background before I get to my actions today and the real start my life or maybe the unravelling of my past. Time will tell.

The event causing the need to commence this diary occurred six years ago. A few weeks after my 22nd birthday, a college friend lured me to Martha's Vineyard for spring break. He had ulterior motives, namely to introduce me as his prospective wife to his family. They hated me and the feeling soon became mutual. My interest in Chris had only ever been platonic. So, you see, the situation was doomed from the beginning.

It ended up with me at a bar, consuming more than the two standard drinks I allow myself. Even then, even surrounded by the excess of youth and the general folly of college, I maintained a strict moral and ethic code. You could say it's the ethos of my life. The catholic school girl melded with the strictly rational scientist nurtured in a military home under a regime of strict discipline. The end result, Me. My one weakness seems to be for older, powerful men. Some might say a father figure.

Anyway, I'm digressing. I'd snuck out of my friends' family home, found a hotel room for the night, rebooked my plane ticket for the next morning and proceeded to drown my sorrows at the quaint little bar attached to the lobby. That's when I first met him, I mean you. At the time I didn't know him - you at all and in a very inebriated state, I had no intention of discovering your name, let alone anything about you. I'm sorry to say, you held no interest for me.

Then all hell broke lose. Chris walked in with his father. I'd consumed just enough alcohol to take up his stupid dare. The stranger's name, I found out on my civil marriage certificate. I'd married one Fox William Mulder in a drunken rage. Worse, we spent the night together. It's not what you're probably thinking, although I don't know you well enough to judge how or what you think.

He, Fox, no you asked me to call you Mulder. Stop, this diary is intended for you Mulder, one day, maybe. You asked me to call you Mulder, not that you probably remember on that long ago night. You even joked that you'd make your new wife call you Mulder. So I'll honour that.

Anyway, Mulder, you were a complete gentleman. Well, as much as a man can be after consuming a pint or more of liquor. Actually, I found you charmingly sweet, under the circumstances. I remember thanking god you kept your hands and everything else to yourself. Then you passed out, telling me that you'd never remember this in the morning. I thought we'd both escaped unscathed.

I was wrong. Chris happily informed me that our marriage had been made legal several days after we both left the Vineyard. More that he'd ensured an annulment impossible when he changed my hotel booking. I called the Vineyard Inn and they confirmed a one night honeymoon stay for Mr and Mrs Fox Mulder. Chris had informed them we were newly weds. You told me I'd made a very bad enemy that night, I didn't believe you at the time but you proved me wrong.

I didn't know what to do. I had proof, incontrovertible proof. I'd gotten married to a man I'd known only a half hour at most. How could I explain it to myself, let alone tell you. So I wrote a letter, actually I typed out a letter, printed three copies. It took me months to find the courage to send them. I didn't want to face my folly, my stupidity. Every time I looked at those dam envelops, I felt guilty and angry and imprudent and ludicrous. I cursed myself, falling into a ridiculous dare which might ruin not only my life, but yours as well. At times the shame became almost unbearable.

Finally, around October, about the time of your 25th birthday, I mustered up the courage. I sent one letter care of Oxford University wondering about the woman who'd caused your drunken state and inadvertently, allowing this marriage to take place. Had you kissed and made up. Would this shock kill any hope for your romance? I hoped not. I never meant to screw with your life like this. Guilt swamped me every time I considered the ramifications to your life. For all I knew you could have been a bigamist and not even know it.

The second, I sent to what I believed to be your Mother's home. I kept the third. It's in the back cover of this diary for you to read at your leisure. Funny but they both came back, unopened. My heart sank. You still didn't know and I didn't know what else to do. I kept the secret. The longer I kept it, the easer it became to ignore it, parcel it away in the back of my conscious and forget our marriage ever took place.

It never felt real and yet so real I had to run away from it. I've followed you sporadically over the years, not physically, but intellectually. I requested a copy of your Ph.D. theses though the medical school library. Even then your love of the supernatural and paranormal was apparent. It formed the basis of your doctoral work. You didn't tell me much about your lost sister, but the dedication within your thesis told me how much she'd meant to you. I lost track of you after that.

I graduated Medical School the following year and worked 100 hours or more each week. My personal life didn't exist outside of my determination to become a forensic pathologist and a short lived love affair. So you see, there was no need to find you, search you out and get this thing between us sorted out. Besides the idea of being a divorcée at age 25 didn't thrill me. It went against my every belief, moral, ethical and religious. I think I mentioned before, my family are Irish Catholic so you see Marriage for me is a very important intuition and I'd made a mockery of it.

Life is strange, Spooky you could almost say. The FBI approached me, recruited me out of medical school. Realising I'd be more useful after two years residency I worked hard to gain my boards as a pathologist. I started teaching at Quantico eighteen months ago after completing basic training. Five weeks into that training and my introduction to the FBI, I first became aware of an agent called Spooky Mulder. I guess this is where this story really starts.

The next day I made some excuse to visit the Hoover building and asked to see your personal file. The monograph you wrote on the occult leading to the arrest of the serial killer Monty Props is legend among new recruits. Using this as the reason for my interest, the clerk updated me on your Spooky reputation. She handed over your details, official, objective and subjective, more easily than I'd thought possible. Seems few people weren't interested in you in one capacity or another. Everyone had an opinion and they seem happy enough to give it at the slightest opportunity.

I didn't learn much about Fox Mulder the man, only your working history with the Bureau. That, in it's self, told a story. Initially considered brilliant, your unorthodox methodology and beliefs soon gave you a Spooky reputation. This seemed to happen about 1989, which coincided with an incident where you were found naked in an empty warehouse, babbling about them being here. Things for you never seemed the same again and I wondered what you suffered to be so changed by the incident. One day maybe I'll find out.

I followed your decent from the Behavioural Unit to the Violent Crimes Section and finally into the X-files at about the same time I join the FBI. The number of commendations rivalled your official reprimands for not playing by the book. I have to admit to being fascinated and yet not surprised considering the subject of your doctoral work.

I believe in making up my mind, not allowing others to influence my thoughts and opinions. Setting off to the basement, I made it as far as the lift door opening the first time before my feet refused to move. No matter how I rationalised it, I stood frozen inside the car. A copy of that long ago letter clutched in my hand.

The doors closed and the elevator ascended. Determined by my failure, I pushed the basement button again. While passengers entered and exited the carriage as it reached the top floor before once again descended, I used the time to gather my courage, calming my rapidly beating heart and forcing my mind to consider this logically. I managed to step out on the second attempt. Two strides up that musty hall I stoped.

_What the hell am I doing here_, I remember thinking before turning back to the safety of parking garage and leaving, appalled with myself for being so weak when I pride myself for my strength and ability to overcome anything.

The very next day, I'd tried to collect my composure for a third go. I made it to your door but found I couldn't knock. Terror griped me at the sound of your voice on the phone. It hadn't changed since the night I met you. Images of that time cascaded through my mind. I wondered what I'd say to you, how I'd tell you. I found myself unable to utter a word.

Turning back to the elevator, I fled. I've tried since, on many occasions, even picking up the phone and calling. When I hear your voice, I find myself terrorised, unable to speak, my mind closes down at the enormity of the secret I've kept so well protected for so long. In the end my fear and knowing that you'd never held anyone special in your life stoped further attempts. I hate myself for not having the courage when you have been so accessible. Even now, I feel the sweat on my palms, my heart beat a rapid tattoo and my breathing catch at the thought of facing up to my indesctessions. Writing this diary is the cause of my physical reaction.

Then I met Jack. Older than me by seven years, Jack seemed to be everything I ever wanted, kind, caring, funny, lovable, so totally in control of his life. He knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it. I admired him personally and professionally. The question I had to ask myself, did I love him and if I did, what was I to do about it. Then he stated on a new case and it became so hard for Jack to relax, impossible really. Suddenly he was always so intense, so relentlessly determined. Before I had to make a decision about telling him, about facing you, it ended. No blaze of glory, no fireworks, just a slow decline until we both realised somewhere along the way, friendship remained the only bond between us. I'd been saved, once again, from facing my demons. I couldn't be more relived and guilt ridden at the same time.

Then this morning the careful web of lies I'd purposely built about myself crashed and burned. A supernova occurred and I had no way of stoping it. Section Chief Blevins called me into a meeting without warning. No explanation just a summons to appear in his office in Washington in one hour.

I remember the conversation so clearly. A thin faced man, never introduced to me, asked, 'are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?'

What could I say? The evidence lay before them in my personnel file, open on Blevins desk. So I answered, 'Yes, I am.'

I really think I surprised Blevins and the man standing to his left smoking a cigarette. Yet the response from the unnamed individual drew my attention. He demanded to know how and gave Blevins a knowing look.

'Yes,' my mind retorted sarcasticly, 'I know him, he is my estranged husband whom I met in a bar while drunk and married half an hour later. Oh and by the way I've not seen him since that night six years ago.'

I settled for a version of the truth which, I hoped, would display my professionalism, 'By reputation. He's an Oxford educated Psychologist, who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult, that helped to catch Monty Props in 1988. Generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section.'

Ok so the last made me feel that I'd defended you, even though I don't know anything about you, Mulder. Still we do share a bond which deserves at least a passing loyalty and might be expected from our relationship. What these men requested I do next almost made me choke. Not for you specifically, but any agent. 'We want you to assist Mulder on these X-Files. You will write field reports on your activities, along with your observations on the validity of the work,' Blevins directed me, his meaning obvious.

'You want me to debunk the X-Files project,' I asked. They didn't say yes, they didn't have too.

I became so angry at these men, at the political game they played and their use of me. I found myself marching down to your office. Without a second thought I exited the elevator which had proved such a stumbling block and found my hand nervously knocking on your door. You have no idea how difficult it became to turn that knob and walking into your office this morning. Every fear I've ever held paled into insignificance with the enormity of what lay before me.

Would you remember anything at all? Mulder, I honestly considered the appearance of one Dana Scully stirring long forgotten memories and you'd have a flash back. I didn't know if I wanted you to recall or not. How could I feel terrified and hopeful at the same time.

The appearance of your office shocked me. Knowing a person believes in ideology outside the main stream is one thing. To be confronted with it in such a public display is quite another.

After I introduced myself, you examined at me like a specimen under the microscope. My heart leapt from my chest into my mouth, so sure you remembered something. Then you held out your hand to take mine. It's the only the third time I've touched you. I knew if this didn't force your memory, nothing would and our secret safe for the moment. It brought a slightly egmatic smile to my lip.

'Isn't it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded?' you asked with so much sarcasm it shocked me. Mulder, I could tell you were prepared to hate me on sight, 'who did you tick off to get suck with this detail, Scully?'

I had to bit my tongue because on the tip, Federal Judge Carter and his son almost made it past my better judgement. Somehow I managed to tell you, my husband, 'actually I'm looking forward to working with you. I've heard a lot about you.'

'Oh, really? I was under the impression,' you paused, spearing me with a glare that said _I neither want nor trust you and I'm going to frighten you away at the earliest opportunity._ If only you knew me better, Mulder, you'd understood your next words proved a challenged I intend to take up. You continued with 'that you were sent to spy on me.'

What could I say, you knew Blevins reason as well I did, but don't know me. You thought reading my senior physics thesis gave you an insight into my intellect, and my personal file a handle on me. Then you presented our first case in a way that could only be considered Spooky. Mulder, you tried to frighten me off. If only you knew my fears concerning you, you would have known nothing you said would break though the rational professionalism I needed to display were you were concerned.

Then you threw down your final challenge, 'we leave for the very plausible state of Oregon at 8AM.'

I returned to Quantico, cleared as much off my desk as possible and transferred the rest to my hastily arranged replacement. Finally able to analyse our first meeting, I found the drive home somewhat cathartic. You didn't remember which cooled my immediate fears. You hadn't been given access to sealed section of my personal file which intrigued me. Surely, with the discrepancy between our marital statuses, Blevins would have allowed you access to it. I have to wonder if there is an alternative political agenda occurring. I guess time will tell.

With this field assignment, my first by the way, well be out of D.C. and on neutral territory so to speak, giving me the opportunity to know you better, Mulder. I'm planing to keep my secret just a little longer. I need to get to know you, Fox Mulder the man and what drives you. What I've heard, the rumours and innuendo, they don't match the person I met, truly met, today. You intrigue me on so many levels. My curiosity is picked. I have to go to bed now, if I'm to be in any fit state for that plane flight tomorrow.

You don't know it yet, I hate flying. Well it's the take off and landing that terrifies me. I have no logical explanation, just an all intimidating fear. If it gets too much, I maybe forced to confess a lesser fear. I'm not sure which would open the biggest can of worms.


	3. Mulder Speaks

**_Thanks to Sintah for rescuing this piece with her review. I appreciate the words of wisdom and hope you enjoy the result of your suggestion. I have changed to format, as you'll see from this chapter. If you don't like it, please let me know and give me ideas of what you'd like to read. I'm always open to positive criticism. Word of warning, the next chapter will be at least T rated if not M. If you object to this, please let me know and I'll see what I can do to tame it down._**

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><p>Mulder pushed the leather bound book off his lap. Closing his eyes, using his index finger and thumb, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Following his internal filing system, Mulder opened the memories he searched for. In a flash, that first meeting with his wife came back. Well the one he remembered.<p>

'Scully,' Mulder called. He needed to share his thoughts and feelings, to have her close, if they wanted to go forward from here.

Alert to any noise or movement, Scully stoped her pacing. Wobbly legs carried her into the living room to find Mulder perched sideways along her couch. Patting the area between his thighs, she sat, her back compressing his chest. Once settled, Mulder moved his other leg, effectively trapping Scully. Picking up the diary from the table, laying it in her lap, he surrounded her, pulling Scully further into his arms.

'Dana,' he spoke quietly into her ear. The sound of her Christian name falling from Mulder's lips warned her of the seriousness of their conversation. Letting out a huge sigh, he commenced, 'your mom gave me a copy of the letter you mentioned.'

'I know,' Scully confessed easily, 'Mom told me while we prepared dinner tonight. She also said you were glad you never received it at Oxford.'

'More than you know,' Mulder paused to consider his words. 'I need to go back to the beginning. Scully, you know how screwed up my childhood became after Samantha's disappearance. The only aspect of my life my father participated in concerned my education. They packed me off to prep school because of my academic abilities which allowed mom and dad to shut down completely and distance themselves from one another. I graduated Valour Dictorian, after effectively skipping two grades and won my scholarship to Oxford. I chose psychology in the youthful attempt to heal the breach within my family. Then I met Phoebe, I'm sure you'll have something to say about her later in your diary, but at the time,' Mulder knew she didn't miss the sarcastic smile gracing his lips or the mockery aimed at himself, even if she couldn't see his face. 'I believed I'd found everything I'd been missing.'

'I can understand that, Mulder,' Scully didn't like making the admission. The doctor in her, hearing the loss and loneliness ached for the boy who'd moved countries in the attempt to pull his shattered family back together. Recalling her almost affair with a married man during college, not that she realised his marital status at the time, Scully understood Mulder's need to feel loved and wanted for himself. That didn't mean she had to like it.

'I can feel hear you thinking,' Mulder teased.

'Umm,' Scully muttered, sinking further into his embrace. 'I wonder why it took me so long to let you do this,' she mumbled.

'If I'd realised mentioning another woman made you this affectionate, I would have tried it years ago,' he mocked. A chuckle escaped as Mulder's comment abruptly woke Scully from of her solace. 'Phoebe was a mistake I had to make. I needed someone wild and carefree, but I got in too deep. I though we formed a bond, that we'd spend the rest of our lives together. Phoebe's a player, she excels at mind games. She almost did a better job with mine than Samantha's abduction did.'

'That a big admission,' Scully comment lightly, realising how much damage this woman had accomplished with Mulder's ego. The fact she'd been able to reel him back in years later only to shatter the walls he'd managed to build against her, seriously affected his self-worth.

'I came home between submitting my thesis for my Ph.D and the oral defence because the FBI wanted my skills in the BSU. I knew Phoebe had her heart set on MI5 or 6 as a career after a stint in New Scotland Yard. She'd never leave England, I couldn't see myself leaving her and I needed to be married to her to stay once my student visa expired. But the FBI and its resources called to me. I would have the opportunity to really investigate my sister's abduction. Even then it formed a wedge between us because of my determination to find Samantha drove my life decisions.'

'You went back and told her you were returning to the states to take up a position with the FBI,' Scully guessed.

'You can imagine how well she took that. Something about control issues,' once again that self mocking smile and sarcasm Scully had come to realise meant more about his lack of self confidence than he'd ever admit. 'It bent her enough to agree to live together while I completed the famous monograph on serial killers and the occult and consider the long term ramifications to our relationship.'

'Disastrous?' Scully enquired.

'Lets just say the coloured glasses started to fade. Living together proved interesting, but your letter forced those glasses to come off,' Mulder state easily.

'How?' Scully craned her neck around to look at Mulder.

'I can't concede Phoebe might have been right in this instance,' he considered thoughtfully, 'but she accused me of having an affair and a secret lover at home in the states.'

Scully laughed, 'secret yes, lover no.'

'I sent the letter back unopened which seemed to belay her fears.' Then the hurt from all those years ago covered his features as he continued, 'until I caught her en flaco flagrante with her married college professor. Turns out it hadn't been their first time or her first indiscretion. Once I realised, I broke it off but the stories from friends just poured out.'

'Mulder,' Scully didn't know what to say. She felt his pain at the worst kind of unfaithfulness.

'I told you once she did a job on me. It's taken a long time to overcome her betrayal. We'd been together years and you can't dismiss that overnight as much as you might want too,' Mulder explained. 'Then along came Diana Fowley, my first female partner and your predecessor on the X files.'

'You had a relationship with your partner,' Scully asked, astounded that she hadn't heard about either.

'More like fell into something,' he grinned at the memory, 'I'm not really sure what.'

'It ended badly,' Scully guessed, knowing that office romances did more often than not. Someone always got hurt in the process. In the male dominated law enforcement sector, a woman gained a certain reputation when the affair became public knowledge.

'You could say that,' the mocking smile came back, 'I didn't realise the depth of her feeling.'

'You used her, Mulder,' Scully asked, aghast at his easy dismissal.

'I though we were using each other,' he replied in a much more serious tone. 'Turned out Diana had secret hope of white picket fences and a house in the burbs.'

'Thank god I didn't tell you that first day,' Scully muttered under her breath.

This time his rich laugher rent the air. 'I might have worked in your favour. I didn't want you, I didn't need you, I didn't trust you and yet you attracted me. Scully, your stoicism, your inability to be frightened off, your defence of scientific rational, I found more appealing than you can imagine. You challenged me intellectually and I have to say, colour blind or not, you not exactly hard on the eye.'

'You got off on me because I didn't run away from you screaming,' she asked, appalled by his honesty, 'or believed all the rumour and innuendo I'd heard.'

'Yes,' he answered easily, comfortable with his version of the truth.

'Mulder,' Scully snapped. Momentary anger flashed in her blue orbs. Considering the four years as his partner and how she'd attempted to remain completely professional, he'd harboured a secret attraction for her because of her rational, scientific approach.

'Let me read some more, Scully,' he smiled down at her. Their eye's met for a moment, a conversation occurred and her anger instantly dissipated.

'I can hardly wait,' rolling her eye's, Mulder planted tender kiss on the crown of her head before pulling the diary into a position he where could read Scully's deliberately neat and precise words.

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><p>12th March 1992<p>

Dear Mulder,

I've decided to personalise this diary now that we have some kind of acquaintance. It is, after all, about my feelings toward the predicament we find ourselves in, even if you are still unaware. I hope, after concluding our first case together, this might change in the future

What am I attempting to say? Spending time with you, has given me some insight into your psyche. So far you confuse and astound me. I find no bases for the general rumour and innuendo. Your intelligence is beyond doubt. Yet your reasoning is so very different from mine. It is abductive, giving the appearance of leaping to conclusions or simple guessing. I have been taught to scientifically deduce my answers using logic and rationalism. As partners we will either form a symbiotic relationship, using the others strengths as we did in this case or we will fail more spectacularly than even C.S. Blevins imagined.

You say I'm part of an agenda, you may be right but not in the way you think. You have secrets, information you're unwilling to share, but you're not the only one. I still wonder about the reason for choosing me, out of all the agents who might have the correct amount of scientific rigour to analyse your work. My loyalties must be torn from the beginning. I may not know you, Mulder, still you are my husband in name and now my partner. This bond forms a cornerstone of our professional life. Trust must follow if our partnership is to thrive, if we are to keep each other safe in the field. Surely those who placed me in this position are more than aware of this. I can not help but ask why? What is the real agenda? Why do they feel the need to debunk your work using your wife as the tool? I know I am just a pawn, but to what end?

I am not going to mention our assignments unless it directly affects my relationship with you, Mulder. For the purpose of this diary, the cases we investigate are a secondary consideration. I know they will have some impact on how I view Fox Mulder the man and what I learn about you. My intention has always been to explain why I keep my secret and how it affects me.

In the three days of this case, you finally spoke of the sister you lost so long ago. Mosquitos in the woods must have been fate, for I wonder if you would open up to me had I not shown such vulnerability. Do not expect it again, I loath the feeling and attempt to conceal my emotions both privately and professionally. Yet, in this instance this weakness served a greater purpose. Don't under estimate the terror those marks generated in me. You took me from my comfortable realm of scientific answers and introduced me to a world beyond any I have ever considered before. In the moment, my fear that every theory, every assumption I ever held true might disintegrate before me tipped my sane world on its axis. Yet you understood, you consoled, you opened up and demonstrated you own defencelessness. I have never been more grateful.

I believe you saw in me the beginning of an ally, perhaps even someone you might learn to trust. Your concern for me, established the man beneath the obstinate, driven professional determined to find the truth. In three days we have come so far, so much further than I believed possible in the beginning. There are only the reports to write and file over the next days. This, I believe will further test our new partnership but it is a storm I now trust we can withstand.


	4. Seeds

'Four years later, I guess you could say we succeeded,' Mulder smiled down at a sleeping Scully. Laying a gentle kiss on her head, he moved, sliding into a more comfortable position. Scully now lay on the couch, her head on his chest. 'Better than even Blevins expected, but I have to agree, I think they used your connection to me.'

Mulder thought deeply on his previously unknown relationship to Scully. Allowing his enquiring mind to follow any tangent, promising theories started to take shape in Mulder's mind. At least one might possibly lead to identifying one of men behind The Consortium. Judge Charles Carter might just have more to gain from that long ago marriage than Mulder and Scully realised at the time.

23rd March 1992

Mulder,

I've been assigned to the X-file for just over two weeks. Yesterday I met with Blevins to deliver my final report on the Bellfleur case. As we discussed this morning it has not been received well. I fear for your continuation if you do not begin to play by the book, or at least give the appearance of doing so.

The thin faced man didn't attend this session, but the smoking man did. He stands to one side and says little but I feel he is more interested in your work than he lets on. I also feel he knows about the relationship between us even though he sports a visitor's pass. Who is he? Why is he allowed access to this information? I don't like it. I don't like him.

Only when I produced the metal object from Ray Sommes nose, along with the technical analysis, did they become interested in my report. Until then, I fear this might have been our first and last investigation together. I need to keep you on a very tight leash for the next months if you want to continue this work, this driving passion. I confess, I'm not sure I'm strong enough for the task.

24th March 1992

You called me last night. I could hear the disappointment in your tone when the case file disappeared. I hope this is a new level of trust developing between us, that you feel comfortable calling me at home in the middle of the night. Although I could do without the late hour, still, I take this a positive sign that our personal relationship is proceeding and one day you might actually learn to trust me.

Mulder couldn't help a silent chuckle at this. Closing his eye's he remember back to those weeks between the initial investigation and filing the reports. Scully had managed to keep him locked up in the office on one pretext or another. She'd been urgently called back to Quantico several times to complete an outstanding assignment. Each time he'd requested resources to investigate a case alone, it'd be rejected. For three weeks, Mulder had cooled his heals, feeling more frustrated. Then he'd gone behind her back and requested permission to visit Kentucky.

'Hey, Scully, wake up,' Mulder's voice held a note of pleased laughter, 'I like this one.'

Finally managing to rouse her, he read from the page: "_Oh God Mulder, three weeks and I hate you. We've just returned form Kentucky and investigating crop circles, I still don't understand why Blevins approved your 302. Anyway, I've just walked in my door an opened my suit case. What do I find? A sunflower seed husk glued to my very best blouse with your saliva. How in gods name did you manage to get it on my blouse without my knowledge? I mean I put up with your habit in the car, in the office and just about everywhere else but on my clothing. That's the living end._

_While you have been receiving a bureau pay check for years and can quite obviously afford designer label suits, I'm still attempting to reimburse my education. Medical school doesn't come cheap and I have three siblings that also needed college tuition. What's more this blouse blew my clothing budget for this quarter. Now I can't wear it. Dam you and your sunflower addiction._

_Not that part of me doesn't wonder about the strength in that tongue of your's. Coupled with your preference for pornography, when you crack a seed between you teeth, then play with it until you get the kernel separated from the husk, I have to wonder what else you can do with it. Oh God, I can't believe I just wrote that._"

'Three weeks and you were already fantasising about my tongue, Scully,' Mulder teased.

'You woke me up because you find that entry amusing,' she answered drowsily.

'Hell no, Scully,' Mulder teased, 'I woke you up because its time I demonstrated the full potential of my tongue.'

'All I'm hearing is this, Mulder,' she returned, opening and closing a hand in midair, enjoying the innuendo, even if it did cause a spear of arousal to travel south. 'From experience I know your actions sometimes speak louder.'

Scully found herself unceremoniously dumped against the arm of her couch. No longer talking, Mulder set about crouching on the floor between her thighs. He made quick work of removing the garments below Scully waist.

'Mulder,' she warned, excitement increasing her eagerness to have him demonstrate his prowess even if she refused to acknowledge it. As usual he took little or no notice of her as he pulled Scully into a more accessible position. Lowering his head, he kissed her intimately, demonstrating just how strong and pliable his tongue could be.

'Scully,' he lifted his head sometime later. Greeted with a very satisfied grunt, he picked her up and carried her to the bed room. 'it seems as if someone's speechless.'

'Go to hell, Mulder,' she managed though a drugged haze.

'Oh, Scully you say the nicest things,' he teased, 'but believe me, if I'm going to get hot enough to burn, so are you.'

It didn't take much time to remove the rest of her clothing. After ditching his t-shirt, sweats and boxers, he climbed into bed beside his wife. Tracing a thumb over her lower lip, he intended to finish what they'd started. Nibbling at her lips, Mulder's tongue invaded at the slightest invitation. Not long after, his body mimicked the same actions.

'Mulder,' Scully laid her head over his frantically beating heart trying to hide a yawn, 'don't stop eating seeds.'

'I have to keep in shape somehow,' he chuckled, knowing he'd worn her out. That hadn't been his intention when he hit on the passage in her diary. The entry amused him because it reeked of Scullyness and yet betrayed the woman he'd always assumed lay just beneath the surface.

Mulder always suspected they'd be sexually compatible, this weekend in Chesapeake proved it. Just now, he'd been able to arouse Scully so completely and easily that it astounded him. 'Tired,' he asked, wondering if she'd be up for another round later yet aware tomorrow they needed to be in Skinners office early.

'Yes,' the word came out almost as a snore.

'Then get some sleep,' he suggested. 'I think we're going to have an interesting day tomorrow.'

'Read the rest of the diary, Mulder. We'll talk about it in the morning. If you wake me again before then, you're a dead man,' Scully promised, closing her eyes. In a matter of seconds her breathing steadied, becoming deep and even.

Kissing Scully softly on her cheek, Mulder eased out from under her. Still stimulated by their sudden and pleasurable intimacy, he retrieved the diary from the lounge room floor where he'd dropped it earlier. Returning to bed, Scully had rolled onto one side. Covering her with the doona, Mulder slipped in beside her. Placing a pillow behind his back, he rested against the headboard. Scully promptly turned and used his thigh instead of her pillow. Smiling, Mulder rested a hand on her silky hair, stroking it lightly before picking up the leather bound journal and commencing on the next entry.


End file.
